


Percy Jackson, Son of Aphrodite

by wysteriaxx



Series: Percy Jackson, Aphrodites Son [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Aphrodite is a good parent, BAMF Annabeth Chase, BAMF Percy Jackson, Bisexuality, F/M, I don't know what to add, M/M, Other, Pansexual Character, Percy Being an Idiot, Percy Jackson is a Good Friend, Percy Jackson is a Mess, Percy is a Dork, Will add tags as I go, first story on here?, pls read, we say no cabin stereotypes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wysteriaxx/pseuds/wysteriaxx
Summary: A half-blood of the eldest godsShall reach 16 against all oddsAnd see the world in endless sleepThe hero's soul, cursed blade shall reapA single choice shall end his daysOlympus to preserve or razeThat's the prophecy everyone knows, and everyone swears by. But who was here when the prophecy was told?Aphrodite.Ever since The great Prophecy, Aphrodite has been known as this ditzy god who only cares about love and makeup. But what actually happened.Aphrodite is one of the oldest gods, she was born from Ouranus' blood and body, the sea foamed and churned around Ouranos and Aphrodite was created. The rest of the gods have forgotten this, even her own boyfriend.Aphrodite heard The Great Prophecy, and knew her kids would be killed if anyone knew of it.For she was included in the prophecy. And her most powerful kid, was also includedHis name? Percy Jackson
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Nico di Angelo, Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase & Thalia Grace, Annabeth Chase & Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Aphrodite & Poseidon, Chiron & Grover Underwood, Jason Grace & Percy Jackson, Jason Grace & Piper McLean, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Luke Castellan & Annabeth Chase & Thalia Grace, Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Percy Jackson & Aphrodite, Percy Jackson & Drew Tanaka, Percy Jackson & Everyone, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood, Percy Jackson & Piper McLean, Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson, Piper McLean & Leo Valdez, Silena Beauregard & Percy Jackson, Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf, Thalia Grace & Percy Jackson
Series: Percy Jackson, Aphrodites Son [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682608
Comments: 29
Kudos: 215





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a lot of copyright, as some words are taken right from the books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of changing POVs in this first chapter. I apologise for this, as I need to set up the scene for the characters. This will be the most POV changed a chapter has

Sirens wailed through the night. New York was as noisy as ever. A beautiful woman ran quickly, clutching her stomach. She pounded on a door. Knocking, and knocking. But it would not open.

Having enough, the women swung open a door. Only to let out a short shriek.

For on the floor, lay the man who's baby belonged in her stomach. And he was stabbed in the throat, blood dribbling down. His body was cold, which meant he's been dead for a while.

The women fled the house, as a rack of pain pulsed through her. The baby was coming. She raced to an alley, and lay there, panting. Then, she pled for the daughter of Hera.

"Eileithyia! Please come to help me. I beg you. The father is dead."

Eileithyia had been resting in her cave near Knossos, Crete when she heard the woman plead for her. She could tell this child was going to be like no other child, and she flashed to the woman.

" Aphrodite. I am here." She reassured the woman.

Aphrodite gasped. " Please. Help me. I don't want this child to die." Eileithyia could see how true Aphrodite's love for this child was. And how pure her love was for the father. It was if it was a whole new Aphrodite to the one who roamed Olympus. And so she helped Aphrodite

"Aphrodite. I need you to push. I will be here," she instructed the beautiful goddess. The goddess just nodded, in too much pain to nod.

A few hours later, there lay a gorgeous baby. Aphrodite gazed down fondly at her son.

"He won't be able to grow up with you..." Eileithyia commented mournfully. It was clear that Aphrodite loved this child.

"He's too young right now. I will care for him by myself for the first two weeks. He would die if we left him on the steps of an orphanage." Aphrodite argued.

Eileithyia sighed. This was an argument she could not win. "Very well. I won't tell anyone of this child."

Aphrodite gave her a dazzling smile before returning to her child. It was like that for a few minutes. A peaceful silence as a mother tended to her son.

"You loved the man, didn't you? And the child."

"The man was like no one I had met. He was truly one of a kind. And this child, he is far more powerful than any of my other children. He is destined for great things." Aphrodite told Eileithyia, knowing that Eileithyia might blurt about it. However, she hoped Eileithyia would be able to keep her out shut. If she didn't, it's not like anyone would believe her.

Aphrodite? Caring for her children. What a joke.

Well, at least that's what they thought.

***

The next two weeks were stressful but worth it. It was hard to explain to Ares why he wasn't allowed to come into her temple. He knew that Ares would be furious if he learnt about this. And he would go ahead and tell his father.

However, it was time for Aphrodite to leave her child. She'd named him Perseus. The boy had no last name yet, as she wanted him to have the name of the family who adopted him.

And so, that's where she was right now. She was crying. Of course, she was a beautiful crier.

The orphanage was a kind one. Aphrodite had made sure of that. But she was hoping that Perseus wouldn't have to stay in the orphanage. She hoped that, as much as it would break her heart, he would grow up with a mother that wasn't herself.

She lay down her son, placing him in a basket that was padded. She rang the doorbell, and walked away, wiping tears as she went.

The door opened to reveal an ageing woman, with grey hair falling around her kind face. She looked down at the doorstep and sighed sadly as she found a baby in a basket. Next to the baby was a piece of paper.

Picking it up, she examined. The woman turned it over, and read it. It said 'Perseus'. Below that, there was a birth date.

' Born August 18th, 1993'.

The woman took a closer look at Percy. He was adorable. His skin seemed to glow, and his raven coloured hair looked soft. Suddenly,he woke up, and started bawling. His eyes were a vibrant sea-green colour, and the woman immediately fell in love. This baby got the good genes, that's for sure. And he was only two weeks old

He would be gone extremely quickly.

***

Elsewhere in New York, a lady gazed dully at some test results. She was infertile. A handsome man beside her wrapped his arm around her, and the woman leant into him.

"I'm so sorry Poseidon." The woman sobbed. She really did want to bear a child.

"It's ok Sally. It's not your fault. If you really want a child, how about we go to that kind orphanage. Choose the youngest child, and I will adopt him as my own. He will get some of my powers." The man, Poseidon, told Sally.

Sally nodded sadly, still upset that she would have any children that came from her own womb.

"Go to sleep Sally." Poseidon said calmly. Sally nodded, crawling under the sheets.

"We'll go in a week. I'll be here by 10 am, be ready." He winked at her, before walking out.

Sally adjusted her pillows, smiling, before drifting off to sleep.

~

A few days later, Sally woke up to the sound of her alarm. Remembering what she was doing today, she hopped into the shower. After that, she rushed to her room where she'd picked her outfit beforehand. By 9, Sally was making breakfast for herself. She was watching the clock, anxious for the clock to tick over to 10.

When it did, there was a loud knock on the door. Sally rushed to open it, and saw Poseidon looking down at her. She smiled bashfully at him, before grabbing his wrist and tugging him to her BMW 325i. They got into the car and drove to the orphanage.

Once there, they jumped out of the car and walked towards the door. Sally exchanged an uneasy look with Poseidon before ringing to doorbell.

The door swung on its hinges to expose the same woman from the week before. She smiled at them wearily.

"Come in, come in. I'm Delilah I'm sorry for the messy state it is in. I had a young child arrive here a week ago, he hasn't let me sleep since. Of course, he misses his mother. And the milk I give him isn't exactly the same as a mothers milk." Delilah rambled.

Sally and Poseidon perked up at the mention of him being young.

"How young is he exactly?" Sally asked Delilah, her eyes shining.

"Two weeks old, the poor dear. He was sleeping peacefully at first, but as if he sensed his mum was gone, when I picked him up he started bawling." Delilah replied. She used grandeur gestures to describe what she was saying.

Sally looked up at Poseidon. That was perfect! He was so young that Sally would get the full mother experience. Of course, apart from the actual birthing of the child, and having the child growing inside of you.

"Can you lead us to him? I really do want to have a child that young." Sally asked, sounding hopeful. Delilah nodded kindly, leading Sally and Poseidon to her room. Once there, Sally saw a blue crib. She rushed over it to see a young boy, who looked adorable.

"What's his name?" Sally asked Delilah.

"His name is Perseus. He wasn't given a last name."

Poseidon wandered over to the crib. He looked at the pitch-black hair that was the exact same colour as his. Then, the baby's eyes snapped open, and Poseidon almost let out a scream of shock.

"Sally... he looks like one of my demigod sons would look like. He even has the aura of a demigod." Poseidon whispered to Sally, sounding shocked.

"I really want him. He looks so sweet and peaceful." Sally murmured.

"Then adopt him. No one's stopping you." Poseidon muttered back. Sally nodded to herself. She would adopt him.

"How long would the adoption process take?" She questioned. 

"Well. You'd have to pay the adoption fees of course. And then you would have to sign the papers. After that, you would have someone from the orphanage come to inspect you every 3 months, to see if you are treating the child correctly. This will continue for 4 years. After those four years are up, you will have complete parenting rights over this child." Delilah explained.

Sally nodded and pulled out her card. "Great, where are the papers?"

"Over here, follow me." Delilah replied, leading Sally over to a desk. There, lay millions of forms, each empty.

"Sir, are you a husband?" Delilah asked Poseidon.

"No. I am this lovely ladies good friend." Poseidon chuckled, not saying that Sally was his girlfriend, because of his wife.

"Ah, well I guess only Miss Sally has to fill in these forms."

"I guess so." 

~

A few hours later, and Poseidon was blessing the child, who was laying next to Sally peacefully.

"Sally. I may never see you again. Zeus is becoming suspicious, and I fear he will kill you. I love you. And remember the summer camp, as Perseus is definitely a demigod." Poseidon told Sally lovingly. Sally nodded sadly and pulled Poseidon in for a kiss. Poseidon responded, before leaving the apartment.

Not even minutes after Poseidon had left, there was another knock at the door. Sally trudged to the door, and opened it. In the doorway stood a stunning woman. She smiled brightly at Sally.

"Good evening Sally Jackson. May I come in?" She asked Sally. Sally nodded warily, a bit nervous about how this woman knew her name.

"Great. I am Aphrodite. The goddess of love and all that stuff. Anyway, Perseus is my son." Sally gasped at this. How did he look so much like Poseidon? "Ah yes. His father did bear a striking resemblance to Poseidon." Aphrodite said sadly.

"Lady Aphrodite, why are you here?" Sally interrupted Aphrodite's mourning.

"Oh! Right. I told a friend of mine, who I've become close with over the past month. This friend happens to be Eileithyia, the goddess of love. She agrees that you should be able to take after my child well. And so she gave me the ability to help your breasts produce milk. He drank mine for a while, so he wouldn't have liked that milk at the Orphanage." Aphrodite explained. She waved her hands and a feeling went through Sally. "There we go. You can now care for my child. Cover your eyes." Sally did as told, and Aphrodite was gone.

She wondered over to Perseus.

"Perseus Jackson. Adopted son of Sally Jackson and Poseidon, Son of Aphrodite. What a life you're going to have."


	2. 1- Next Time I'll Open The Door Like A Fairy

~Percy~

Sally had been granted Percy easily in the space of four years.

Of course, Percy wasn't the peaceful child Sally had thought he was at the orphanage. No, Percy would use his big green eyes to his advantage and widen them whenever he did something wrong. He would smile his lopsided smile, and a dimple in his left cheek would appear. Friends of Sally got an undefinable uneasiness around him. They felt nervous and would often just label Percy as a trouble maker.

Poseidon, of course, had been keeping an eye on his adopted son. To Sally's alarm, Percy once ran home and told her that he'd seen a man with one eye. Of course, Sally had shaken her head and said you're imagining things, but on the inside she was nervous. Percy was becoming less oblivious. That means that he wouldn't be as safe anymore.

Of course, Percy wasn't immune to the 'curse' of the demigod when it came to school. Likewise to his mum's friends, he was thought to be a troublemaker. Percy was gorgeous, considering his age. He made them uneasy, and the teachers didn't like things that made them uneasy. Therefore, they labelled him a troublemaker. And that was that. It didn't help that bad things happened to Percy every year. And the fact that Percy was dyslexic and had ADHD. He could never pay attention in class and was constantly frowning at the board, making it seem like he didn't like what it said.

Sally was running out of options. Gabe spent all their money and gods know what, so she couldn't send him to schools that cost a lot. That left a few schools, since once one area heard of Percy's incidents, they wouldn't allow him into their school. Yancy's academy was left, and although it was a boarding school, Sally knew it would be best. After all, it was better than the place that Poseidon wanted Percy to go to, and most likely Aphrodite as well.

***

Percy strode through the door, pushing it open with the palm of his hand. Unfortunately, he seemed to put a bit more force than was necessary into the push, and the door swung open with a bang. When Percy heard the bang, he cowered a bit. Gabe would not be happy.

'Sorry Gabe' He thought to himself sarcastically, as he eyes the hairless walrus who sat slumped on a table. Beer bottles surrounded him, and some lay discarded on the floor.

'Oops. My bad Gabe. Next time I'll open the door like a fairy.' Percy thought to himself sarcastically, as he eyed the alcoholic wasteland. There were beer bottles everywhere, some on the floor and some on the table. In the middle. If the wasteland lay Gabe, who resembled a hairless walrus. He lay slumped on the table, most likely passed out from having too much alcohol.

Percy walked through on the tips of his feet, trying not to disturb the sleeping walrus. Then, something glinting in the sun caught his eye.

There was glass on the floor. That means one of two things, Smelly Gabe had been clumsy and had knocked a bottle onto the floor, or he had been extremely angry and had hurtled a bottle to the floor. Percy hedged his bets on the second option, as he eyed the source of the cracked glass. It was coming from a bottle that seemed to have been thrown to the ground in fury.

He had to get to his room. It wouldn't be a mess, as it hadn't been the whole year. Well, it wouldn't be a mess that Smelly Gabe had created. But Percy couldn't deny that there would be a mess from himself.

If Percy had gone to a boarding school the whole year, it would've been a different story. There would be muddy marks all along the window sill, and his room would've become Gabe's personal study.

Just as Percy started to his room once again, a huge sigh was heaved from the table. Percy crouched down again as if to protect his stomach. After doing that, he froze, knowing that if he attempted to run, he wouldn't make it.

"Kid, make yourself useful for once and get me some beer." A rough voice grunted out. Percy stayed in the same position for a few seconds, before standing up straight. Then, he drew on his confidence and faced Gabe

"Get it yourself. You have legs, don't you?" Percy retorted, unknowingly putting some force behind his words. Gabe's eyes glazed over, and he walked over to the fridge in a trancelike state. He pulled open the fridge and grabbed one of the many beers. Then, he walked back to the table.

Percy watched all this wide-eyed. Stuff like this hadn't happened to Percy before. Well, it had, but not like that. Freaky things constantly happened to Percy, but Percy was never the one who did them. Sure, he fired a canon at a school bus before, but that was technically not

Gabe shook his head, and the glazed look faded from his eyes. It seemed that he was back on control of his own body. This was confirmed when he glared at Percy.

"You punk. How did you do that?" He grunted once again,

Percy shook his head softly, confused by what he just did. Then, he shrugged in reply, as he still wasn't quite sure what just happened. And how it happened. It just didn't make sense.

Gabe's beady eyes narrowed, and he lumbered towards Percy. Percy was uneasy as Gabe approached, and slowly crept towards the wall, too scared to think straight.

Nearing the wall was a bad choice, as Gabe started punching Percy. "Tell. Me. How. You. Did. It." He punctuated each word he said with a punch, increasing the intensity of the hit each time. Percy let out a small groan each time.

Percy let out a strangled cry "I don't know!" He pleaded, pain filling him. Gabe punched him in the face, before dragging him to Percy's room and chucking Percy in his bed. Percy scrambled for the sheets and pulled them over himself. He was still scared of Gabe.

"When your mom gets back, she will be clueless. And you will make sure she remains clueless, or I will hit that little bitch more times then you count." Gabe demanded. Protection welled up inside Percy for his mother, he didn't want her to get hurt. And so he nodded. But he was still mad, and still had fury left in him. And so he used it

Percy built up his confidence."Get out" he demanded, and Gabe obeyed. He marched out of the room in a dreamlike state, looking like a zombie. When the door shut, Percy hauled his desk to the door, barricading himself from the world.

***

Percy wandered through the streets, looking very lonely due to his absence of friends. When his mom had first let him wander among the street, he had doubted her mentality. Of course, if she hadn't allowed Percy to go he would've snuck out himself. Perhaps this was why Sally let him wander the streets by himself.

New York was busy, and full of people who had no good intentions and would try to cheat people for money. Because of this, Percy decided it would be perfect to practice his newfound skill. He needed to know how powerful it was. He walked over to a stall, where there seemed to be a heated argument. Then, he eavesdropped.

"Sir, you promised me that this would be a bargain! You said it wouldn't cost as much if I bought two things." A woman was pleading to a man behind a food stall

" Yes ma'am, but since I told you this I changed my mind. It's not my problem you took so long, next time instead of standing there for 5 minutes, pick it!" The man retorted rudely. Percy narrowed his eyes, this man was cheating the woman and blaming her for it.

He decided to step in. "Come on sir, you promised this woman something, don't you wanna follow up your deal?" He asked, cocking his head to the side to make him seem innocent.

The man's eyes glazed over for a bit before he shook his head. "No, not really."

"Yes, you do," Percy instructed, putting more force behind his words. To his alarm, instead if just persuading the man in the stall, he managed to persuade everyone at the stall. Soon, everyone was nodding, and the man agreed to the bargain. With wide eyes, Percy walked away. He didn't know he could do that, and to be honest, it kind of scared him.

Tell me what you think...


	3. 3 - Mr Brunner is scared of storms?

~Percy~

It had almost been a year since I had been kicked out of my old school. I hadn't meant to ruin something, but of course, it happened anyway. Maybe people shouldn't put things that can cause mass destruction in reach of a 5th grader. Like placing that huge Revolutionary War cannon near me. If it's not supposed to work, why did it work for me?

I might be able to make it to the second year at a school. Then, I wouldn't have to feel the terrible feeling of being the new kid at a school again.

I wish I knew how wrong I was

The only reason I want to stay at Yancys academy was because of Grover, and Mr Brunner. Oh, and I didn't want to be a new kid again. The rest of the school could go rot in hell, especially Mrs Dodds. I don't know how someone would marry her. The poor soul.

And then there was Nancy Bobofit. Ever since I had arrived at Yancy, she had hated me. I don't know what I did to her, but it offended her, and Nancy had made my life terrible ever since.

In retaliation, I hate Nancy. Completely logical if you ask me

The requirement to get in also made the school a bit psycho, with a bunch of troubled kids all thrown together. It was supposed to make it easier for other schools.

A perfect example of what went down here at Yancys would be my current situation; sitting on a bus on the way to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, just to look at some Ancient Greek and Roman stuff. It sounded like fun, if fun included stabbing your eyes with forks repeatedly.

However, there is always hope in the darkest of times. And this hope came in the form of Mr Brunner, my Latin teacher. And my favourite teacher.

Mr Brunner was middle-aged and had this really cool motorised wheelchair. I could imagine him racing his buddies in it.

Anyway, back onto the topic. He had thinning hair, and a scruffy beard that needed to be shaved off(Sorry Mr Brunner.)

He had a supply of Roman weapons and armour in his class, and I was slightly worried that it was real. Because then he could chop off my head with them if I annoyed him. Therefore, there was no sleeping in that class. And it was kind of interesting.

I hoped I didn't get in trouble. I hoped that everything would go well.

I wish.

The problem with the bus drive included many things. 1, I was an ADHD child. This wasn't fun. And 2, Nancy Bobofit, the bane of my existence, was sitting right behind me. She was tormenting Grover and I for no reason other than pleasure. And she knew I couldn't react otherwise I would be killed by the headmaster in the form of death-by-in-school-probation.

Grover couldn't really protect himself either, mainly because he was an easy target. He cried when he got frustrated, which was a lot. He was scrawny, and he was already hitting puberty. He had a wispy beard that looked like chest hair growing on his face. On top of all those problems, his main one for being at this school was that he was a cripple. Grover was excused from Sports for the rest of his life (poor soul, I would hate that.) And the way he walked was kind of weird.

Because of all this, Nancy was throwing wads of peanut butter in Grover's hair.

"I'm going to slowly feed her to the sharks one by one," I mumbled, and no, I was not aggressive. Just very protective.

"It's okay, I like peanut butter." Grover tried to reassure me, knowing the consequences of me decking Nancy.

Yeh, I'm sure you do. But not in your hair.

Another projectile of Nancy's lunch came flying by. At this, I turned around and snarled at Nancy.

"Stop it," I demanded. To my surprise, she did. Her eyes glazed over like the others did, and she nodded in a trance. And we carried on our trip like nothing happened, though Grover did keep looking out me out of the corners of his eyes.

***

There was a motorised wheelchair leading us. There sat a man in that wheelchair, the same man I described earlier, but that was irrelevant.

There was stuff all around us that looked like it would crumble and turn to dust if I even poked it. That's what happens after stuff had survived for two or three thousand years.

Right now, we were all in front of a stone stele, which was about four metres tall. Mr Brunner was telling us all about the carvings on the side, and it was interesting. To me, at least. According to the chatter around me, other people didn't think it was. And whenever I tried to tell them t shut up, I was given a dirty look by Mrs Dodds, who currently looked like a wannabe biker. She wore a leather jacket and looked like she would run a Harley right into your locker.

She seemed to support the feud between Nancy and me, and sadly she sided with Nancy and not me.

I thought that Mrs Dodds wasn't human. Grover agreed.

When I'd told him my suspicions of Mrs Dodds not being human, he looked at me, dead serious and told me "You're absolutely right." He was a bit into it.

Mr Brunner continued to talk about funeral art. I still couldn't hear, and snapped when I heard Nancy snicker about the naked guy on the stele.

And so I turned around "Will you shut up?" I asked.

With my luck, those words came out a lot louder than I thought. Figures.

Mr Brunner turned around, stopping his story while all around him kids laughed at me. My face flushed

"Mr Jackson," he started "did you have a comment?"

By now. I was sure I resembled a tomato. Or maybe a red capsicum. "No sir," I replied.

Mr Brunner directed my attention to the side of the stele. It was a fairly gruesome carving.

" Perhaps you'll be able to tell us what this picture represents."

The carving was a familiar one, and I felt my face flush again, but this time from relief. "That's Kronos eating his kids." I said, right off the bat.

Mr Brunner wasn't satisfied with that answer apparently. "And he did this because..." he trailed off. Looking at me expectantly.

If this was any other teacher, I would've said a smart remark. Surely they would know since they thought the subject.

But this was Mr Brunner. I liked him.

"Well... Kronos was the king god, I mean titan." I corrected myself as Mr Brunner raised an eyebrow at me. "And he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. And so bam, he swallowed them whole. However, his wife didn't want one of her children to be eaten, quite understandable if you ask me, and so she gave Kronos a rock in place of her baby Zeus. So while Kronos had a rock rattling around in his stomach, baby Zeus grew up. And when he was old enough he tricked his dad, who was Kronos, into barfing out his brothers and sisters."

I heard some retching noises behind me. "Ewww" was also heard.

"And so there was this huge fight that went on for ages. It was between the Titans and gods, and the gods won."

The spawn of the devil, in the form of a human, mumbled to her friend. "Like we're going to need this in real life. We'll be in college and the deal-breaking question will be "Please explain why Kronos ate his children."

Luckily, Mr Brunner had radar ears. "And why, Mr Jackson," He said, " to paraphrase Miss Bobofit excellent question, does this matter in real life."

Grover smirked "Exposed"

"Shut up" Nancy mumbled, her face now even brighter than mine had been before.

I, however, had sadly been wondering the same thing as Nancy. "I don't know, sir," I said dejectedly.

Mr Brunner was disappointed, which disappointed me. You know that look that teachers get when they expect you to do better and you don't, and then they put on a face which makes you want to do it? Well, Mr Brunner had perfected that look, it was almost as if he'd been practising it for centuries.

"Well, half-credit to you, Mr Jackson. You are correct. Zeus did, in fact, feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him throw up his other children, who had grown up in their father's stomach. They then defeated their father, sliced him to pieces, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the underworld. Now, lets head outside and enjoy the sunshine, unlike Kronos is." With that happy note, everyone headed outside.

I was hoping to get away before my name was called, so I could eat lunch in peace. 

Of course, that wasn't the case, so I wasn't surprised to hear my name being called out.

"Mr Jackson," was heard from Mr Brunner. I had been walking with Grover, so I told him to go ahead, not wanting him to be held up by me.

"Sir?"

Mr Brunner had this certain look, that wouldn't let you go. His intense brown eyes could've seen a thousand years or however many years old he was, and I wouldn't know any different. He almost seemed like he had seen everything. His look was captivating and held you in place. You didn't want to look away in fear of missing something.

"Mr. Jackson, you must learn the answer to my question. It is vital information. It may be the difference between life and death," Mr. Brunner told me gravely.

"About how this applies to real life? Because Mr. Brunner, how am I supposed to know that? And sir, I don't understand how this could be life and death. Yes, it is all very interesting, but its Greek mythology. They're all myths"

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Mr Brunner shifted in his chair anxiously. Huh, he must be scared of storms then

Mr. Brunner gave me a look, "What you learn from me, is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson." He told me. And then he turned and walked outside, after giving the stele a long look, as if he'd been at her funeral. And really, with those eyes, I wouldn't be surprised if he was that old.

I felt anger arise deep inside me. Mr Brunner pushed me so hard. He expected me to do well in school, which was practically impossible.

I mean, sure, he was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armour and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I glumly walked outside, where the weather seemed to match my mood. A storm was brewing, the blackest clouds I'd ever seen forming. It had to be global warming. Weather had been weird for the past few months; we'd had so many weather disasters. Snowstorms, flash floods, wildfires. It was as if they were pitted against each other.

Everyone else seemed to be ignorant of the weather and to be honest, I wasn't surprised.

My class was as bright as a dead lightbulb. Myself included, I guess.

Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket some random lady, and once again, Mrs Dodds was acting as if that was suitable behaviour.

Grover was sitting on the edge of the fountain, far away from all our fellow classmates. I quickly joined him, hoping that by being this far away from them all, I would not be associated with the school for freaks.

"Detention?" Grover asked as I approached.

I scoffed. "Nah, why would I get one anyways. He heard what Nancy said, so it wasn't like I did something wrong. He's just pressuring me to do better, and I just wish he'd lay off me man. I mean, I'm no genius."\

Grover said nothing, just staring at the ground. I thought he was thinking of something philosophical to say, but, when he opened his mouth to talk, all he said was, "can I have your apple?"

I didn't have an appetite, so I let him take it. Who was I to deny a man, or boy, from food?

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

And on top of that, 'd have to see Smelly Gabe again. He'd be annoyed to see me, and he'd either take it out on me or yell at mum. And I didn't want either of those things to happen. So I stayed put.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. Kind of rude if you ask me. Move away from the ramp for others who are handicapped. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table.

I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops. " She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos. Not attractive in the slightest. I mean, freckles are cute, but not if they're orange.

I tried to stay cool. The school counsellor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper. " But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.

Next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting in the fountain, drenched, screaming "Percy pushed me!"

Oh shit. I was in trouble. Again. Hello, new school!

Sure enough, once Mrs Dodds was assured that poor little miss Cheeto face was ok, she turned to me, with a triumphant fire in her eyes. They gleamed as if she'd been waiting for an opportunity like this for the whole semester. "Now honey-" 

"I know," I grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks. "

That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her. "

I stared at him stunned. It was pretty damn obvious that it was my fault, kids were screaming it was my fault. And, on top of that, Mrs Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled. How did he even have a whiskery chin?

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"You—will—stay—here. "

Grover looked at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I told him. "Thanks for trying. "

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at me. "Now. "

Nancy Bobofit smirked.

I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. She just snickered, and mouthed ' see you later, pretty boy,' I gritted my teeth

Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast? Did she have superhuman speed or something? Unfair

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counsellor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I wanted her to have super speed

I went after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel. I could never relate. Reading was hell.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall. Superhuman speed

Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop. Even though, the shirts were terrible, and Nancy would probably hate it. That was something I couldn't blame her for.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan. And thank god for that, I couldn't've done with that fashion disaster. Honestly, people have no taste

I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, and the sculptures of the mythological people, the gallery was empty. Risky

Mrs Dodds stood in front of this big marble frieze of the Greek gods. Her arms were crossed, and she seemed to be making this weird noise in her throat, almost like she was growling. Or maybe she had something stuck in her throat. You never know... no judgement

Even without the weird growly noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher unless it's one that likes you. And I don't really have experience with teachers who like me. She looked at the frieze behind her, as if she wanted to pulverise it. She had some problems, I decided

"You've been giving us problems honey," She said. Ok, great. Turned out one of her problems was me. That's ok.

I felt like using my freaky little persuasive thing on her, but mom always told me to be honest, and she would never manipulate someone unless they really, really deserved it. And she would say that Mrs Dodds doesn't deserve it. So, I Did the safe thing. I said, "Yes ma'am"

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me.

I said, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am. "

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain. "

I didn't know what she was talking about.

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. A guy needs money. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

Maybe they'd found my gossip column on the school, I needed to expose people somehow, and I was a pretty good eavesdropper.

But it seemed a bit extreme to punish any of these things with legitimate pain.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Ma'am, I don't. . . "

"Your time is up," she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shrivelled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

She looked disgusting. 0/10 on attractiveness.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.

She snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.

The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulphur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.

My hands were still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I went back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt. "

I said, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about.

She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

He said, "Who?"

But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at me, so I thought he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I told him. "This is serious. "

Thunder boomed overhead.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved.

I went over to him.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson. "

I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at me blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher. "

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

I found out on the bus ride back, that apparently this Mrs Kerr was a perky blonde woman, whom I'd never seen in my life. The rest of the school seemed to believe she had been my pre-algebra teacher since Christmas, but I wasn't so sure.

Grover was the only one who helped me keep my sanity. I'd mention Mrs Dodds name, and he would hesitate. But then he would claim she didn't exist. But he hesitated;

The rest of the school year was average. I wouldn't be coming back to school the next year, after calling my English teacher an old sot.

I mean, he was an old sot, and his breath stunk.

School seemed to drift by, until exams came. I only really bothered for Latin. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson.

I picked up the mythology book.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried. Cause I had, I really had.

Mr Brunner was the only teacher who didn't immediately act uneasy when he taught me. I'd asked students why other teachers got uneasy around me, and they'd look at the ground and mutter something about looks.

Surely I wasn't that ugly?

Anyway, I needed Mr Brunner's help.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor. That was oddly suspicious to me, but I shrugged it off. Couldn't be that bad.

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said "... worried about Percy, sir."

I froze. Holy shit. What was he talking about

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to an adult. Especially when you don't know what they're talking about. For all I know, Grover could be spilling my deep dark secrets to Mr Brunner. I wanted to know what he was saying

I inched closer.

"... alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

A kindly one? What kind of bullshit is this?

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more."

Um, thanks, sir. I know I'm not mature. But that hit deep.

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline— "

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can."

And again with the insults! Come on man, I'm not that oblivious, am I?

"Sir, he saw her... ."

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that."

Mist? The weather recently had been clear. How was the weather-related to any of this

"Sir, I ... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean.

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Fuck. Hide.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall. Gotta hide the evidence after all

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow. What the hell was going on here?

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled woodblocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn ..."

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

"Don't remind me."

I waited for a while in the room, but once it was clear everyone was gone, I snuck back to my dorm, were Grover was waiting

"You ready for the test?" He asked, blearily rubbing his eyes as he came in

"Hell no"

After that it was silent. Grover made no move to tell me what he'd been talking about with Mr Brunner

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger. For all I know, they could've been having these conversations constantly throughout the year.

The Latin exam came and went. Mr Brunner wanted to speak to me, and I was kind of scared he knew that I'd eavesdropped.

But it turned out, he just wanted to tell me that I wasn't normal, and it was best that I was leaving

Great. Bloody brilliant. Just what I wanted my favourite teacher to tell me.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase. I just wanted to get out of here

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh ... not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Percy ... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers ..."

"Grover—"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and ..."

"Grover, you're a really, really bad liar. And believe it or not, I'm not stupid"

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer.

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um ... summer address."

My heart sank. Grover had a summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion."

He nodded. "Or ... or if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you."

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who defended me.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with the afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses. They weren't a look

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me. I mean, I get it, I'm ugly. no need to make me insecure.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all."

" really? I thought that was hilarious"

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"We're getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on."

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there."

"Come on!'" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, thedriver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. Thebus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

The rest of the trip was weird. Grover was weird. I felt feverish, and Grover wasn't helping with his shaking knee.

Grover asked if he could walk me home from the bus station. I told him, yes, but really, I meant no.

As soon as Grover went to the bathroom for his nervous pee, I bolted.

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma. And even after all that, when she was so poor she could barely afford anything, she adopted me.

The only good break she ever got was meeting my adopted dad.

They decided to adopt me together. I sometimes wonder if mom regretted it. After all, my adopted dad left, and mom was left with me. And my adopted dad's name wasn't even on the adoption papers. See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

I don't have any memories of my adoptive father. Just this warm glow, and the barest trace of a smile. I don't ask mom about him, it makes her sad. She has no pictures of him either.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

And then there was Smelly Gabe. He sucked. I'm not gonna dignify him with any other description. He doesn't deserve it.

An accurate depiction of how disgusting he is is the fact that when I walked in smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. Junk was all over the carpet, and all I could smell was cigar smoke, our conversation consisted of this.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom?"

"Working," he said. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

***

It was a while before mum got back. In the meantime, I cleaned up my dirty room.

I cleaned it up pretty early, so I was left with my thoughts. And I thought about what happened today.

But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic—how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone—something—was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Percy?"

She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.

My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change colour in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few grey streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.

We sat in my room together for a while. Mum worked at a candy store and whenever I was home, she brought back a bag of free samples, all blue.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right?

It was nice.

However, it was all ruined by smelly Gabe, surprise surprise.

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?"

I gritted my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at YancyAcademy. I told her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked YancyAcademy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad.

I didn't even touch on Mrs Didds, knowing it would scare her.

"I have a surprise for you," she said. "We're going to the beach."

My eyes widened. "Montauk? No way!"

"Three nights—same cabin."

"When?"

She smiled. "As soon as I get changed."

I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money. There was, he was just a bitch.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip."

Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?"

"I knew it," I muttered. "He won't let us go."

"Of course he will," my mom said evenly. "Your stepfather is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip ... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?

"Yes, honey," my mother said.

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back."

"We'll be very careful."

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip ... And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game."

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week.

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad.

Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought?

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement.

"Yeah, whatever," he decided.

He went back to his game.

"Thank you, Percy," my mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes—the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride—as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.

But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.


	4. I can charmspeak birds to poop on cars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! sorry for such a wait. For some reason, I decided that year 11 would be a really good time to start a new story for some reason. I've had 3 exams in the past 3 days. Not ok. Plus this chapter decided to delete itself so I had to write a whole new one

~Percy~

After an hour, we were finally able to leave the big fat ugly rat behind. 

Said rat took a break from his oh so important poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. Not that I would’ve trusted him to carry them. The man probably has 1% muscle in his body. He’d drop them immediately.

No, instead he used his time in a much more useful way. By griping and groaning about losing my mom’s cooking for the whole weekend. I had to grit my teeth to stop myself from yelling. Mum was better than him in every way possible and didn’t deserve to be treated like a maid. 

But, maybe without mums cooking, he’d die of starvation?

What was even worse for him, was the fact that he was losing his precious ’78 Camaro, for the whole weekend. 

"Not a scratch on this car, pretty boy," he leered at me as I loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

I mean, sure Gabe. I was definitely the one driving. Not like I’m twelve or anything. But that didn’t matter to Gabe. If a seagull pooped on his paint job, Gabe would be convinced that I told the bird to with my weird voice powers. 

Watching the rat lumber back to the building, I got really mad for some reason. Don’t know why, but I did. And so, as Gabe reached the doorway, I made that weird hand gesture that I’d seen Grover do back on the bus. It was like, a warding-off-evil gesture? A clawed hand over my heart, and then a shoving movement towards Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon. I had to hold back a snicker. Served him goddamn right. 

I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it. Further away from Gabe I was, the better.

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half-sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.

I loved the place.

We'd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my adoptive dad.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea. She got even prettier, if possible. 

We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jellybeans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. 

At times like this, I wondered if mom and I were secretly blood-related. Because it was such a me thing to do. She literally went out of the way to prove the bastard wrong. A true queen

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Sometimes, at times like this, I felt like asking my mum about my adoptive father. But in the end, I didn’t. Because I wasn’t blood-related to him. And mom was in a good mood, which she deserved. I really didn’t want to ruin that. 

However, I did somehow pick up the nerve to ask about my birth mother. See, mum told me that she’d, met my birth mother before. She’d thanked my mom profusely for taking me in. She regretted giving me up, but it was the only option she’d had apparently. 

“Your birth mother was stunning Percy. She also gave me the sense of someone who was underestimated, the underdog. I think she would be proud of you. “

I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years. Oh yeah, and don’t forget the random voice manipulation, where I could somehow manipulate someone's thoughts and make them puppets. 

"How old was I?” I asked, “When you adopted me?”

“You were a few weeks old Percy. Your mother had looked after you for a bit, but then her family demanded you to be given up for adoption. She couldn’t go against them. They would kick her out and leave her for dead,”

She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

Somehow, I knew that I’d been with my birth mom for a bit. Whenever I thought about her, there seemed to be this chiming laughter and soft voice, and I felt calmer. 

“Why did my adoptive dad leave you. You’d just adopted a baby with him and he just; left,” I asked mum angrily. 

“Oh Percy sweetie, your father never wanted to leave you. He was going on an ocean voyage and got lost at sea. I’ve never seen him again…” Mom told me sadly. 

I felt angry at my adoptive father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. He'd left mum with a 2-week old baby, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.

"Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?"

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out. Mom had always tried to make me feel welcome. 

My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I—I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words reminded me of what Mr Brunner had said—that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal," I said.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"Safe from what?"

She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me—all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that—a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs Dodd’s at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you. And your birth mother actually… And I just... I just can't stand to do it."

"My father wanted me to go to a special school?"

"Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp."

My head was spinning. Why would my dad—who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me born— talk to my mom about a summer camp? My birth mother I understood. She had literally had no choice. But I was strange how they both wanted me to go to the same summer camp. Also, if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before?

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I—I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

"For good? But if it's only a summer camp ..."

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

That night I had a vivid dream.

It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. In the middle, a large white dove hovered in between. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle’s wings. Above them, the dove seemed to be beating its wings, as if to provide a distraction. It also, somehow, looked disproving as they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed, No!

I woke with a start.

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. But the waves didn’t scare me. Only the storm. 

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane."

I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice—someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover. He was like, a half Grover, not a whole one. 

"Searching all night," he gasped. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looked at me in terror—not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy," she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his pants on—and where his legs should be ... where his legs should be ...

My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: "Percy. Tell me now!"

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand knitting the big ass socks, and Mrs Dodd’s, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go!"

Grover ran for the Camaro—but he wasn't running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked.

Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were cloven hooves. Freaky stuff there. 

We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas. At some point, I’m pretty sure a bird pooped on the car. 

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo— lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal. Kind of disconcerting in my personal opinion. 

All I could think to say was, "So, you and my mom... know each other? Do you guys have little boot club sessions, where you talk smack about me and how annoying I am? Because man, if you did, wouldn’t blame you there."

Grover looked at me wide-eyed as if he didn’t know how to respond. 

Guess that was a yes then. 

“Not exactly.” He said, proving my previous thought wrong. “I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you.”

"Watching me? Mom, you knew someone was stalking and befriending me, and you were ok with this?"

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. I was trying to keep you safe. Not in a stalkerish way at all. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I am your friend."

"Um, good to know G-man. Know what would be even better to know? If I knew what exactly you were, that would be just peachy. Cause right now I feel like I’m hallucinating.?"

"That doesn't matter right now."

"It doesn't matter? I’m pretty damn sure it is. I mean, it’s not normal to have a best friend who’s half animal. From the waist down, you’re a donkey if it escaped—"

Grover let out a sharp, throaty "Blaa-ha-ha!"

I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat. This day was getting weirder. It felt like was on drugs, and I’d never even done drugs despite all the dodgy offers I’d received. 

"Goat!" he cried.

"What?" Oh god, this kept getting more interesting. 

"I'm a goat from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter. Like literally 10 seconds ago you said it didn’t matter?"

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult! A donkey? Ridiculous"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr Brunner's myths?" also, a little rich calling donkeys ridiculous when he was quite literally half-goat, apparently. 

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs Dodds a myth?" Woah, cool down on the sass there G-man. Forgive me for being confused as fuck right now. 

"So you admit there was a Mrs Dodds!"

"Of course."

“Oh yeah, of course. Just tried to make me go crazy for a few months! Why would you-”

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are."

“Who I—wait a minute, what do you mean? I know who I am. I’m a 12-year-old boy who has no idea what’s currently happening!”

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail. And it sounded demented. Not my place to judge though, I guess. 

"Percy," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety."

"Safety from what? Who's after me?"

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions. Not dangerous at all,"

"Grover!"

"Sorry, Mrs Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?"

I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn't do it. I knew this wasn't a dream. I had no imagination. I could never dream up something this weird.

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences. Great, just what we needed as we were being chased by, as Grover said, the Lord of the Deads bloodthirstiest minions. 

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The summer camp I told you about." My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. "The place your father wanted to send you."

"The place you didn't want me to go."

"Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger."

"Because some old ladies cut yarn."

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means—the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... when someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you.'"

"No, I didn't. I said 'someone.'"

"You meant 'you.' As in me. I quite literally heard it. I’m confused, not deaf,"

"I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you."

“Yeah yeah, sure,”

"Boys!" my mom said.

She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid—a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

"What was that?" I asked.

"We're almost there," my mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please."

If it helped, I would’ve used my weird voice powers. But I doubt anyone would appreciate that at the moment. 

I didn't know where there was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive. It was like a roller coaster. Those terrified me though. But this did as well, so I guess it was apt. 

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness—the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really hadn't been human. She'd meant to kill me. I would’ve been a nice little barbecued human snack. 

Then I thought about Mr Brunner ... and the sword he had thrown me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom! and our car exploded.

Do you think Gabe would believe I convinced it to blow up?

I remember feeling weightless like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time.

I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat and said, "Ow."

"Percy!" my mom shouted.

"I'm okay...."

I tried to shake off the daze. I wasn't dead. The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our drivers-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in.

So still ruined, but not in a kaboom way. 

Lightning. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. "Grover!"

He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you're my best friend and I don't want you to die! Despite how weird he was. 

Then he groaned "Food," and I knew there was hope. And honestly, if I wasn’t lying. That was a mood, food was always good for the soul after all. 

"Percy," my mother said, "we have to ..." Her voice faltered.

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns. Kinky

I swallowed hard. "Who is—"

"Percy," my mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car."

My mother threw herself against the drivers-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking.

"Climb out the passenger's side!" my mother told me. "Percy—you have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

"What?"

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"That's the property line," my mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

"Mom, you're coming too."

Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean.

"No!" I shouted. "You are coming with me. Help me carry Grover." A bit of my word manipulation came into my voice. 

Mums eyes started to glaze over, but then thunder boomed, and she snapped out of it. “No, I can’t. I won’t.” 

Goddamnit. I forgot how stubborn my mom could be sometimes. 

"Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder. We get it, Grover, you’re a hungry bastard. 

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands—huge meaty hands—were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head ... was his head. And the points that looked like horns ...

"He doesn't want us," my mother told me. "He wants you. Besides, I can't cross the property line."

"But..."

"We don't have time, Percy. Go. Please."

I got mad, then—mad at my mother, at Grover the goat, at the thing with horns that was lumbering toward us slowly and deliberately like, like a bull.

I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain. "We're going together. Come on, Mom."

"I told you—"

"Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover."

I didn't wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn't have carried him very far if my mom hadn't come to my aid.

Together, we draped Grover's arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine—bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear—I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms—which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr Brunner told us. But he couldn't be real.

I blinked the rain out of my eyes. "That's—"

"Pasiphae's son," my mother said. "I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you."

"But he's the Min—"

"Don't say his name," she warned. "Names have power." Of course, they do. Duh. 

The pine tree was still way too far—a hundred yards uphill at least.

I glanced behind me again.

The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows—or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered since we were only about fifty feet away.

"Food?" Grover moaned.

"Shhh," I told him. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.

Oops.

I told the bull guy to through it I guess. 

"Percy," my mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way— directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

"How do you know all this?" Was mum a secret rodeo girl?

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me."

"Keeping me near you? But—"

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill.

He'd smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter.

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

My mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. "Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said."

I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right—it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side.

The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass.

We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side, I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it.

The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

"Run, Percy!" she told me. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

But I just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she'd told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

"Mom!"

She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she were a holographic projection. A blinding flash, and she was simply ... gone.

"No!"

Anger replaced my fear. Newfound strength burned in my limbs—the same rush of energy I'd gotten when Mrs Dodds grew talons.

The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. The monster hunched over, snuffling my best friend, as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too.

I couldn't allow that.

“Move away from him!” I screamed. The weird voice thing came back, and he seemed to move away from Grover for a bit, before going up to him again. Great, my voice thing wouldn’t work on him this time. 

I stripped off my red rain jacket.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists.

I had an idea—a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I'd jump out of the way at the last moment.

But it didn't happen like that.

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge.

Time slowed down.

My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, so I leapt straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How did I do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out.

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I'd bite my own tongue off.

"Food!" Grover moaned.

The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. I thought about how he had squeezed the life out of my mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. I got both hands around one horn and I pulled backwards with all my might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then—snap!

The bull-man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry, but I had a horn in my hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife.

The monster charged.

Without thinking, I rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, I drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate—not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and scared and trembling with grief I'd just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and cry, but there was Grover, needing my help, so I managed to haul him up and stagger down into the valley, toward the lights of the farmhouse. I was crying, calling for my mother, but I held on to Grover—I wasn't going to let him go.

The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man and a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's. They both looked down at me, and the girl said, "He's the one. He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "He's still conscious. Bring him inside."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, leave your opinions on what I could improve. Instructive criticism is always appreciated! xx


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